


Komorebi (木漏れ日)

by insightful_username



Series: Fluttering Leaves [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Depression, M/M, kind of a college au, mentions depression and anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insightful_username/pseuds/insightful_username
Summary: Mark looked to Jackson, the faint light of the moon filtering through the foliage above them. His eyes were large, awestruck. Jackson bowed, his head facing his feet before he yelled, “I like you!”Jackson’s voice was raspy and uncertain, the words were jumbled together and uncareful. Yet Mark still felt the warm breath of wind that blew past them, his eyes overflowing with tears.





	Komorebi (木漏れ日)

He could picture his life somewhere completely different. Off in a glimmering meadow with a bright glistening stream flowing calmly, himself tucked underneath the shadow of a tall oak tree. Or up as high as the peak of a mountain where he could see everything he ever dreamed to hear. Of course, his current situation was far from it.

Having just barely scraped past freshman year, he, as anyone else in college would be, was a broke young adult. His apartment was shoddy at best. The windows were tinted a light yellow, the walls reeking of a slight musty smell. Everything was a bit dreary and ugly to say the least.

But his view was incredible. Even if he wasn't located in the best place ever, he was high enough in his apartment complex to catch a glimpse of the setting sun every night. The large ball of gas setting to reveal a sea of stars made him the slightest bit morose. It was at least enough to make him regret leaving the comforts of his parents’ house.

He still knew he had to get over it, recalling how his parents told him it was natural to be sad after leaving his home.

 

Mark deeply regretted getting up from his restful slumber, wishing he didn't have to work. After realizing his faults, he reprimanded himself for not wanting to work for what he had.

Finally, he had egressed from his home, cautiously and uncertain. The sun was bright, unbelievably so.

His eyes were glued to his feet, just barely able to dodge the oncoming crowd of people. The people around him reminded him why he became so seclusive, unable to relate or even handle other people.

He glances up momentarily, a minute movement that goes unnoticed. Everyone’s faces seem as if they were covered, impossible to decipher anything based on it. Yet he somehow felt their piercing glares at him, dehumanizing and condescending on him. He was an idiot to go out.

  
Mark ducks into a small café, checking around. There are the usual white girls who are almost all inexplicably dressed the same with thick makeup. He spotted a familiar face in a two-person booth. He moved without thinking, dodging the teenage girls and parents with their kids.

He knocks on the table where his old classmate’s elbows rested as they read. Mark rubs the nape of his neck, awkward, “Jackson?” He asked as he knocked softly on the table.

Jackson looked up from his book, scooting to the corner of the seat. His eyes were wide and his face was unusually gaunt as compared to his chubby cheeks as a child. Mark could see Jackson attempt to speak, his mouth flopping gracelessly, “Mark?” He managed to speak.

Mark waved hello, his hand by his forehead and moving down. Jackson returned the gesture, his hands moving down to gesture in front of him. Mark obliged and sat down in the seat. Jackson’s book was set aside, staring at Mark.

The American male took in a shaky breath, momentarily remembering his rudeness to the slightly younger man in his past. His want to run away was exponentially amplified. Mark lifted his hands carefully, clasping them together. He did a mini bow, his head setting down onto the table.

Mark felt a hand on his shoulder before he carefully lifted his head. Jackson’s eyes were emotional and large. The Hong Kong native’s eyes told Mark that he forgave him. The American took in yet another shaky breath, carefully moving his hands to his tremulous voice, “I was really bad to you when I… was a kid, and I feel I should… owe you an apology…”

Jackson shook his head, placing his large hands gently over Mark's own. The younger man gave a small smile as if he were forgiving Mark. It soon hit Mark that Jackson wasn't resentful at him at all.

“No, no, no!” Mark spoke, “Please, I'm not exactly wh-who you may think I-I am.”

Jackson tilted his head in confusion, either not hearing or understanding what Mark had meant. The taller male froze, groaning as he placed his head back onto the table. He flinched again when Jackson placed his hand onto Mark’s shoulder.

“I-I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you or… something. I… I haven't b-been able to go out all that often,” Mark stuttered, his hands fumbling carelessly to follow his words.

The younger man smiled again, his book in a small satchel at his side, standing up. Mark watched as the young man stood, motioning for Mark to follow. He led the taller bow to the back of the small café, vents and large garbage bins with a truck set off the calm and natural ambience in the café.

“Hey, it’s fine, my hearing was kin da fixed. I've got a hearing aid, y’know? Now I can finally hear you,” the boy’s voice was soft yet excited, but he paused, looking distantly to the café, “But my hearing’s still kinda wonky, and with all that noise in there, I couldn't really understand you.”

Mark looked down at his hi-tops, his vision focusing on the rips of his jeans like a camera focusing itself. He took in a deep breath, his eyes traveling up Jackson before stopping just short of the man’s torso, “I— please just… I'm sorry.”

“Mark, that was the past. Plus, you didn't really hurt me. Let's just start over,” Jackson smiled, his voice conclusive and curt.

The older man leaned against the dirty wall, the slight jaggedness of the brick wall prickling at his sweater as he slid down slightly. He held his head in his hand, the tips of his soft brown hair tickling the back of his hand. His hands were cold against his heated cheeks.

The younger man’s hand had once again found itself on Mark, reassuring like a mother cooing to her child that they're alright. The shorter male hitched his bag further up his shoulder before moving closer to Mark.

“I don't want you to be so hung up over this entire ordeal,” Jackson was unnecessarily kind, which made Mark feel worse about himself.

“Jackson?” A voice called out, their tone concerned and tense.

“Shit, sorry Mark, I forgot why I was here in the first place,” Jackson whispered to the man, turning around the corner before he began to yell in return to his supposed friend, “I'm right here!”

“What the hell are you doing there?”

“I'm with my friend from school!” Mark suppressed the urge to wince with a small cough, “Come and meet him!”

“Jackson, seriously, what the hell?”

“Jaebum! Come on!”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Mark listened idly to Jackson and Jaebum yelling at each other, his back still against the brick wall. He saw Jackson’s shadow grab onto a taller figure before the boy led the other man to Mark.

“This is Mark,” Jackson said, his voice peppy and upbeat.

Said male lifted his head slightly to see Jackson standing with a man that already seemed intimidating, especially with what was left of the man’s shadow that wasn't covered by the café’s seemed intense, what looked to be jagged metal poking from a bucket hat.

Mark felt a breath close to his face, his hair blowing with the man’s breathing.

“You're that guy that bullied Jackson, aren'tcha?” Jaebum's voice sounded colder when it wasn't straining to yell at his friend. The man’s tenor lilt sounded harsh against the calming ambience of the café they flowed through the doors.

The American brushed his hair from his face, remaining silent. With his head still bowed, he bent at his hips to actually bow. He placed a peace sign at his face, shifting it to an L-shape and pulled it from his face like finger-guns. Which he remembered after learring A.S.L.

Mark heard Jackson tell something after him a while after he ran away from the pair of friends.

  
Mark burst through his front door, throwing himself on his bed. The fabric of his blanket sunk around him, the thin sheets wrapping around part of his body as they were brought up by the force of him hitting the rickety bed.

He lifted his hands, which had a vein bulging through each of them, and closed his right hand save for two fingers. HIs hands echoes his movements at the café.

He rushed his hands over his face, as if to scrub away his embarrassment. His eyes fluttered shut after he rested an arm over his eyes.

Mark regretted leaving his house, but he was somewhat glad to make amends for his past shortcomings.

  
~~

  
_Mark rested his arms over the swingset’s bridge’s railing, his knees dirtied from playing around in the mulch and grass. His t-shirt was ripped at the hems, dirt splattering messily over the shirt._

_He heard footsteps in the mulch. They were loud, as if the other person wasn't aware of the noise. A boy, wearing a yellow shirt with a large monkey design printed on it stood in front of him._

_Mark looked over at the slightly younger boy, his ten-year-old self disinterested in the boy. He picked at the small holes in his shirt. The boy pointed at Mark, then to himself before clasping his small hands together. The boy looked expectantly at Mark, his eyes wide with childlike wonder._

_Mark scoffed, jumping down from the play-set, kicking the small wood-chips from the ground at the young boy. He laughed st the boy._

  
~~

  
Mark copied the gesture he learnt years ago, recalling Jackson showing it to him when he was a shallow little kid.

The gesture, he remembered was Japanese. Though he and Jackson were both based in the U.S., he still enjoyed the wonders of other sign languages.

He groaned, watching the wind blow the trees on the sidewalks below. The sun shining directly through his old windows and streamed onto his unkempt bed. He heaved his body up, opening his cupboard, realizing it had a bag of bread with a single piece of bread in it and a banana thrown a shelf higher with a half empty bottle of water near it.

Mark took the bag, taking the single piece of bread out, the multi-grained item feeling hard in his hands. He sighed, throwing it back into its bag before taking the somehow still yellow banana and peeled it. He walked out of his apartment cautiously.

His legs carry him to the closest market. He was in a small drugstore, throwing instant ramen into a small provided near the front of the store.

He recoiled when he saw a familiar figure near the back of the store, staring at the various assortment of drinks in the refrigerator. He heaved in a heavy breath, embarrassment sinking into his veins.

Mark shoved his earbuds into his ears, moving over to the snack section to throw a couple of bags of chips into the basket.

“Oh, Mark! What're you doin’ here?” Jackson spoke up in front of the American boy. His eyes wandered to the basket full of junk food. Mark blushed, hiding the basket behind his back.

“I'm just… buying some stuff,” Mark mumbled.

“Are ya heading anywhere?” Jackson asked curiously, his question somewhat brusque.

“I was just going to go home after buying this,” Mark kept his eyes focused on Jackson’s exposed legs from under his basketball shorts.

“Why don't you throw that shit in my car and come with me,” Jackson hummed in the place of the word “right”.

Mark lifted his gaze shortly to Jackson’s neck. He gave in, throwing his two bags of consumables into the backseat of Jackson’s car.

Jackson beckoned for Mark to get into his car after Mark had placed his things in the backseat. He walked calmly to the passenger seat of the car, sitting next to Jackson.

“I'm sorry for making you run away the last time we met. I don't know if it's my fault or not, but I just wanted to apologize,” Jackson sounded genuinely apologetic for Mark’s own awful social skills. Mark coughed, shifting himself in the seat, embarrassed.

“N-no, no. It’s my fault. I-I've never been good with other people. And meeting your friend was k-kinda… scary, y'know?” Mark managed to stutter out.

“Jaebum has that kind of intimidation factor,” Jackson’s voice slurred ever-so-slightly. He let out a soft laugh, “God, I'm still so shitty at speaking.”

Mark lifted his gaze higher than he’d ever brought it in years. He inhaled sharply, looking to Jackson's face. He noticed the subtle light brown-ish color in the boy’s ears. It was like the hearing aid he recalled from his childhood.

A vignette almost wrapped around his vision, as he stared at Jackson. The sun was behind the boy, wrapping the two of them in with a bright dulcet tone. Mark let out a soft laugh, his frame shaking as he turned his head from Jackson, “I've been speaking my entire life, but I'm still terrible at it, too.”

Jackson did the same, his laugh light and high-pitched. It made him embarrassed at his small and forced smile.

 

The sound of people talking outside, only muffled by the car doors. The cars around them emitted a subtle almost revving noise. But soon, the noises became quieter as they moved further from the city.

They passed by a small park, hearing small children yelling as they ran around.

Jackson turned the car into the parking lot across the street from the park, calmly signaling for Mark to get off. Jackson was quiet, his footsteps heavy as he took himself out of the car.

“I'm not going to be able to hear you too well with all the children screaming,” Jackson noted offhandedly. He let out a small chuckle.

They walked into the small park, trees surrounding them. It was a stark contrast to the tall, looming mechanical nature of the grey buildings around them. The place, however seemed to reside between a crosswalk and a large flat building.

Mark’s eyes were drawn to the small playground where kids ran around, chasing each other. He motioned for Jackson to follow him, dodging the parents with strollers. He told Jackson to stand on the rickety bridge as he stayed on the ground.

He didn't know what led him to do it, but he lifted an arm, pointing to Jackson, then moved the hand the opposite direction to himself. He clasped his hands together, his eyes concentrated on the motion. He heard footsteps against the mulch beside him, Jackson’s shoes behind his shaking hands. The boy’s rough hands met his own. Mark lifted his gaze again, meeting Jackson’s large eyes.

“Mark,” said boy could barely make out Jackson’s voice. Jackson’s voice sounded somewhat strained. His hands remained in Mark’s, stable and warm, “Let’s go.”

Mark felt his heart stop, unable to read Jackson’s tone of voice. He looked back to his feet, his face flushing with the sunlight shining through the foliage above him. Jackson let go of Mark’s hands, waiting for them to separate before grabbing Mark’s left hand. He saw a hint of pink on Jackson's face as well.

They stopped at a bridge above a small stream. Small fish swam around below them, peacefully so. The sunlight moved gently with the greenery of the leaves. It was peaceful, a surprisingly small amount of people passing. He could hear small splashing noises surrounding them that seemed to fit in line with the small breeze in the otherwise stagnant air.

“I loved this spot as a kid,” Jackson spoke up, his voice strangely empty despite his eyes that crinkled with his beaming smile. Mark nodded, looking over the edge of the bridge.

“I can tell why,” Mark’s voice was raspy, awkwardly breaking through silence. He cleared his throat, continuing, “It’s so nice here.”

Mark rested against the railings of the bridge, the wood-like material feeling warm under his cold hands. It reminded him of his senior year in high school, where he was atop the railing of a bridge.

 

_Mark looked to his calendar, which ripped before the end of the month. He let his eyes slip shut for a split second, walking alongside a nearly empty bridge. The sun had just risen, so it shined directly into his eyes._

_He reached a good spot, where the sun was barely covered by trees off in the horizon. He took in a deep breath, running his hands through his dark hair as he lugged his body atop the railing._

_His legs felt weak, barely able to balance the weight of his body. He nearly fell, if not for the car that suddenly zoomed by him. He slipped down, sitting instead._

_He felt his cheeks moisten._

 

  
Mark sat on the unstable railing, his feet dangling under him. He let go of the railing, nearly falling down if not for Jackson’s grip on him.

“What’re you doing?” Jackson asked, his voice accented with a deep baritone lilt. It echoed in Mark’s ears as he frowned.

“Nothing… I just wanted… to sit down,” another breeze blew past them, warm against their skin.

“Then why'd you look like you were going to jump off?” Jackson deadpanned.

“It's fine. It's not like jumping… from this height would kill me anyway.”

“True, but I'm pretty sure you physically can't jump from here. I think it's like illegal or something”

“I-I guess,” Mark lifted his legs, attempted to get off before realizing mobility wasn't really easy with a boy on his back, “Jackson… can you, like, get off of me?”

“Yeah, s-sorry,” Jackson maneuvered his body off of Mark’s, almost falling into the stream himself.

Jackson’s breath was heavy, perhaps because of him jumping to prevent Mark from plummeting face first into the stream below them. His phone rang loudly.

Jackson returned minutes later, stating that Jaebum was looking for him to be a wingman for a date. Mark shrugs it off, noticing Jackson holding his phone out.

“What's this?” Mark asked, unsure.

“Put your number in,” Jackson mumbled, his voice overly casual as if he had some ulterior motive.

Hesitantly, Mark punched in his number, handing the phone back to Jackson. The boy took a picture of Mark, smirking as if he'd won a game. Mark blushed, his eyes wide as if he were caught jacking off to a picture, “Not fair!”

Jackson laughed, pocketing his phone before beckoning for Mark to follow him. The boy led Mark through the crowded area once more.

They arrived back at the convenience store after Mark told Jackson to just drop him off there. Mark took his two bags of food, trekking back to his apartment.

 

  
~~

 

  
Mark awakened to the sun burning his eyes once more, reminding himself to get curtains installed to his window. He groaned, funding a new scene to greet him; his phone flashed for a split second to show a video call.

He panicked, shoving a sweater over his school t-shirt from his freshman year of high school which had a god awful amalgamation of the school logo and some barely visible remains of words that had washed away with time. He shoved his hair into a hat and ran his hands over his face before he reached to his phone.

“Mark, how long does it take for you to answer my call?” Jackson greeted him with an attempt at a faux annoyed voice.

“What the hell, Jack,” Mark ran a hand over his face again, “It’s really fucking early y’know?”

“God damn, remind me never to talk to you when you just wake up. I've never heard you swear before,” Jackson commented, his camera shaking as he walked like a video blogger.

“Yeah, it's whatever. Why’re you calling me?” Mark asked.

“I need a favor from you,” Jackson continued without even giving Mark a chance to respond, “I'm going to need you to talk to this boy. Now I know you're fucking terrible at talking to people, but I need your help.”

Mark groaned, glad his face was mostly hidden by his baseball cap, “What about it?”

“Remember Jaebum, they guy with the angry chin? He wants me to help set him up with this guy I know named Jinyoung.”

“He went to the same elementary school as us, right?” Mark asked, following with a short phrase, “I think he was in one of my classes last year.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll give you his number, talk to him, okay?” Jackson gave a small smile to Mark.

Mark hung up, typing in the boy’s number. He took in a deep breath, typing in his phone.

  
_Hey, Jinyoung_.

  
Mark placed his phone back onto his bedside table, stripping the sweater off again, the air unbelievably humid.

  
_**Jinyoung** : Who are you?_

_It's Mark, from college?_

_**Jinyoung** : OK_

_**Jinyoung** : How’d you get my number?_

_One of my friends wanted me to ask you about a boy. Jaebum, I believe.._

_**Jinyoung** : What about him?_

_Literally just your opinion on him._

_**Jinyoung** : He’s a great person. I really like him, and he seems really friendly._

_Oh okay, thanks._

_**Jinyoung** : Wait, why?_

_Just because. Thanks, Jinyoung._

  
Mark ignored the incessant notifications that followed his final statement in his and Jinyoung’s chat room, moving to call Jackson again.

“Oh, Markiepooh! Did’ya finish what I told you to?” Jackson asked.

“Jinyoung said he really likes Jaebum and that he’s a great person.”

“Okay, I need you to meet up with him tomorrow.”

Mark obliged and ended up running to the kid’s playpen, hiding near the escalator in the mall as he left Jinyoung in a small sweets shop. He sighed, walking over to the lounge area in the mall. It was much quieter than the bustling food court and playpen.

Jackson managed to find Mark a short while after. Mark swore under his breath, scowling at Jackson.

“I can't believe you made me do this,” Mark’s grimace deepened.

“To be fair, you were the one to accept the offer,” Jackson replied snarkily, “I'll buy you something if you want.”

The sky darkened slightly, a cloud passing over the sun from just above the sunroof. Mark held his eyes to the slightly tinted glass above them, trying not to seem too stupid in the midst of the chaos in the mall.

Mark moved his hands to a whisper, ‘Fuck you.’

‘Love you too,’ Jackson signed back.

Mark huffed out, getting up carefully, “Get up,” he muttered, not sure if Jackson heard him. The muscular man got up and followed Mark either way.

“Where’re we going?” Jackson asked from just by Mark.

“You can buy me a drink, then,” Mark replied cryptically.

And Mark left with an overly sweetened iced coffee and a slightly bruised pride.

  
~~

  
The whole Jinyoung and Jaebum thing settled surprisingly quickly, leaving Mark in his home once more.

It was his summer between freshman and sophomore year, yet his communication arts major wasn't exactly helping him do anything but lounge in his house, the same scene greeting him each day.

He heard his phone ring, once or twice, playing the melodious harmony of an alarm. It tore through the peace in his house as easily as a pair of scissors to paper. Jackson wanted to meet up with Mark again, yet the latter was hesitant to oblige seeing as it was incredibly late at night.

Mark called the boy, too tired to reply via text messages.

“Mark!” Jackson’s voice was loud and rough against the tinny quality of the phone.

“What do you want?” Mark asked, stifling a quick yawn.

“Let's go out somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Remember that bridge? Let's go there again.”

“It's,” Mark took his phone from his ears, checking the time, “literally eleven at night.”

“Fair point, it may be a bit late, but why not?” There was a shuffling noise on the other end, a familiar jingling of keys playing through the receiver of the phone, “You'd better come out to that one café we met at.”

“Jack, no,” Mark said quickly, only to be cut off by the static noise of the phone ceasing suddenly.

He swore under his breath, shoving a thin hoodie over his pink tank top, leaving his old pair of basketball shorts from his sleep on.

Mark found himself leaving his house at eleven-twenty in the night. The one car that seemed to pass every couple of minutes reminding of his failed attempt of ending his life. He lowered his head, plugging his earbuds in his ears, blaring loud music into his ears.

A short breeze ran through his hair just as he reached the café again. He tore his earbuds out, pocketing them.

“Jackson, this place isn't even open; why are we here?” Mark crossed his arms.

“We’re just going back to that one bridge. There shouldn't be anyone there.”

Mark gave a sigh of relief, though he should've known seeing how late it was. He hopped into Jackson’s car, too tired to disagree.

 

  
Jackson stood by Mark, his fingers wrapped around a water bottle, coughing softly, “Can I ask you something?”

Mark noticed the sudden angst filling the atmosphere, “Ask away,”

“If I didn't have hearing loss, would it have been better for you?”

The American boy blinked, raising a single eyebrow, “In what regard?”

“Okay, let me rephrase that then,” Jackson’s eyes looked hollow as he stared at the fish swimming calmly below them, “How about if I were gone? If I were never the inconvenience I am now. After all, I only hurt people like you.”

“Jackson, look at me,” Mark said softly, not sure if the boy could hear him, “I deeply resented you for years after I was punished for… hurting you. But I-I could never wish you never existed.”

Mark took in a deep breath, his frame shaking with the expansion of his lungs, “You have such a great personality, I wish I could be as great as you. And god, I can— I could never imagine m-my life any other way even if I became like... like this,” Mark sat down against the railing, his legs weak.

“Thanks, Mark,” Jackson smiled softly.

The older boy hugged his knees together, looking up at Jackson. Jackson’s smooth face looked luminescent under the brilliance of the moonlight, yet his eyes still looked dull. Mark frowned, burying his head in his knees.

Mark looked down at the steam alongside Jackson, yawning. They were silent for another few minutes.

“I'm sorry for dragging you out of your house this late at night,” Jackson muttered, his voice nearly whisking away in the breeze.

“I… was being rude,” Mark whispered, barely audible to his own ears.

Jackson somehow heard him, though. He stood up, his hands grasping the railing just as he took his phone out, “It’s fine. I'll take you home now. I need to do something anyway.”

Mark followed Jackson to his car, “I can't sleep anyway, can I just come with you?”

“I don't want to weigh you down with my emotional baggage,” Jackson looked morose, his oration overly cryptic.

“Wh-what happened?” Mark asked nervously.

“Nothing, I have to deal with some family issues,” Jackson gave Mark a clue as to what was wrong.

“Is it— does that mean someone in your family… passed away?” Mark asked cautiously, throwing caution to the wind.

Jackson remained quiet, stopping the car at the side of the road. He placed his head on the wheel, the horn sounding loudly in the night before he changed his position carefully. Mark panicked, “I'm sorry, Jack. I can leave if you want me to.”

Mark saw the younger boy shake his head ever-so-slightly. Jackson’s voice was soft and muffled, “No, Mark. I'll drive you home.”

 

  
Mark was back at home just as the clock struck to one. He was curious about Jackson’s situation, but was hesitant to ask the boy further, especially after seeing Jackson’s reaction.

He didn't want to ruin what he had with Jackson, especially with his redemption setting into motion. He stared at his dark ceiling, his hoodie thrown carelessly on the ground. He felt stupid, his skin flushing the more he thought about Jackson.

The American man grabbed his cup ramen, boiling some water. Mark decided the water was warm enough after a few minutes of waiting, pouring the steaming water into the cup. He prodded at the soggy noodles with a chopstick, his mid-night snack looking grotesque without the light that usually streamed in to give it some kind of color.

He was worried about Jackson, still. It was all that had invaded his mind, almost debilitating him. He took out the small collapsible chair that sat next to a shelf in the corner of the room. The chair sat just high enough for a Mark to use the shelf as a makeshift table.

Mark looked to his phone, chewing on a single noodle. He closed the lid back onto the cup, placing his chopsticks onto the lid. He took a look to his phone, taking his chopsticks from his noodles again. He put a large mouthful of noodles in his mouth.

The sky was slowly lightening, reminding Mark of how long the last time he saw Jackson was. He groaned, moving to his phone before dialing Jackson’s number.

He tapped his socked feet onto the wooden floor, anxiety running rampant through his veins. He heard the phone ring, five times, before telling him Jackson wasn't answering him. He sat back in the collapsible chair, the backside of the chair poking into his side.

He finished his ramen noodles, throwing the cup to the corner of the table. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. Mark looked to his phone again, lying on his sofa, too lazy to go back to his bed.

Mark groaned, feigning sleep as if he would actually be able to fall asleep. He heard his phone in the midst of his drifting in and out of sleep. He jumped to his cellular device, picking it up.

“Hi?” He asked hesitantly, his voice a weak whisper.

“Mark,” Jackson’s voice was softer, almost whisked away by the rough static of the call. His voice was tremulous, scarily so.

“What’s up?” Mark tried to speak, louder, as if it would give him the courage to continue the call.

“I think,” Jackson paused, inhaling shakily, “I'm ready to tell you about what happened.”

“What?” Mark continued eloquently.

“Of course, as you said, a family member passed; my dad, specifically,” he breathed in, deeper this time, “I'm… I'm really sorry about this, but I-I really need someone to t-talk to.”

“Jackson, it’s fine. I'm open to whatever you have to throw at me.”

A breath of air hit the receiver, “You're a great person.”

It somehow harkened back to Mark's somewhat troubled past, making him wince in embarrassment. Jackson’s shaky breath was heard through their pregnant silence.

Mark spoke up, just loud enough for himself to hear, “I'm not.”

It seemed Jackson hadn't heard him, sniffling shortly, “I’ll talk to you later.”

The California-native’s voice gave a small crack in the place of a goodbye, waiting for the static to turn to the deafening silence of his home.

He threw his phone down, tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't understand how Jackson could see past his actions in his past. He let out a bitter laugh, bringing his legs to his chest.

  
~~

  
Jackson was depressed. From his mannerisms with Mark for the past few times he was with Mark. His overall demeanor, while still being somewhat excitable, had become more calm, making him laugh and smile less than he had before.

It wasn't noticeable at first, when Mark first greeted the boy after their whole conversation over phone, Jackson smiled kindly. They met at the bridge they deemed as their own, even if it weren't literally.

“Hey, it’s almost the Fourth of July thing, right?” Jackson asked, his knowledge of American culture shining through his voice.

“Yeah, what about it?” Mark replied curiously.

“They're showing fireworks soon, wanna go together?” Jackson asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

“Sure, by who are you going with?” Mark looked up to Jackson’s jaw.

“Jaebum and Jinyoung are probably going with us, maybe another friend.”

Mark swallowed, recalling his prior experiences with Jinyoung and Jaebum. A shrill giggle escaped his lips, which rang harshly against the flowing steam under them. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, laughing more normally.

“Sorry, I'm still absolutely awful at this,” he smiled softly.

Jackson had approached him, a hand resting carefully on Mark’s shoulder. Even if he weren't too handsy before, his hand was nearly hovering over Mark’s shoulder. It made the American boy flinch.

“Jack, is something wrong?” Mark asked.

The boy retracted his hand, “No, I'm just a bit tired. I had a difficult practice today.”

Mark recalled Jackson telling him of his fencing career. Mark frowned, looking up to the overcast sky, “Jack?”

The other man hummed, still next to Mark, “I'm still really sorry about if I hurt you the last time we saw each other. I knew something bad had happened and I was… insensitive to say the least.”

“No Mark, it’s fine. I’m not too worried about that anymore,” Jackson coughed in attempt to cover his mild discomfiture, a forced smile on his slightly tanned skin.

Mark nodded, closing his eyes.

  
~~

  
Independence Day arrived quickly. His sister had called him around dinner time, a noise popping in the background.

“Mark! How are you?” His sister was almost loud enough to blow his ears out.

“What the hell? Where are you?” Mark asked.

“I'm at a party,” the noise stopped, the sound of voices appearing then disappearing to just a small muffled noise, “It's a little loud here so I just came to the bathroom.”

“Thanks for telling me that,” Mark's voice held a blasé tone.

“Yeah, well fuck you too.” His sister let out a laugh,”No, but I wanted to ask about your day, since you didn't go out last year around this time of the year.”

“Tammy,” Mark began, using his older sister’s name, “Please. This isn't, like, Christmas or whatever. Plus this year, I'm actually actually doing something anyway.”

His sister gave a small squeal, causing the muffled speaking to become softer for a split second, “Really? Why are you doing?”

Mark looked to his dinner table, his cup noodles steaming out elegantly to drape over his warm body. His body flushed, feeling overly warm in the Californian air. He coughed, accidentally inhaling the dust from the shelf above him, “j-just a… friend.”

His sister gave him a laugh eerily similar to his own, “Alright, I'll stop. Have fun, then.”

“Thanks, sis,” Mark muttered before waiting for his sister to hang up.

Jackson texted him moments after his sister hung up.

  
_**Jackson** : hey, i’m outside that café, can you just tell me your address, or no?_

_I will, eventually._

_I'll be out soon._

_**Jackson** : alrighty then._

  
Mark rushed to run out of his home, finding Jackson’s familiar black car in the parking lot. It glowed, nearly candescent under the orange-ish glow of the setting sun. Mark tapped on the door, the metallic surface burning his hand before he moved his knuckles to the glass. His foreign friend unlocked the door, the clicking noise ringing in the hot wind that blew against his body.

“Hey, Jack. Were you out long?” Mark asked, huffing after running over to the car.

The boy looked detached, squinting at Mark’s mouth, just laughing softly. Mark lifted his head hesitantly, noticing the lack of the brown object in Jackson’s ear.

Mark lifted his hands, which moved clumsily, “Are you… not wearing your hearing aid?”

Jackson shook his head, moving his hands, mouth sounding the syllables clumsily, ’It broke. Plus, it's gonna be loud there anyway.’

“You're lucky,” Mark murmured, remembering the cacophony of sound with all the noise of the people stacked on top of the explosive sounds of the fireworks. It was bound to be a sensory overload.

They met up with Jinyoung and Jaebum, whose hands were interlocked while a tall but young-looking boy trailed behind them. The boy’s name was some god-awful, difficult to both pronounce and spell, name. Jinyoung just told him to call the boy BamBam.

Jaebum apologized for their initial meeting, realizing that Mark had far since changed since his childhood. However, he carried on, asking about Jackson's apparent silence.

Mark answered, restating what Jackson had told him. The three of them seemed to understand, so they ran to catch up with Jackson, who had continued to walk along the curb.

The sun had set within an hour of them being outside. Mark’s concept of time had dwindled since their rendezvous. He felt around in his pockets, finding that his only source of time had disappeared from his grasp.

There was a soft chill to the summer air, which heavily contrasted the crowd of people who just wanted the best view of the fireworks. Mark managed to dodge the oncoming pedestrians while keeping up with Jackson’s incessant walking which somehow never seemed to slow despite the traffic. His three friends were even further behind than he was, almost being swept away by the crowd.

After a bit of walking, they had arrived at a small space on a hill where it was somehow the slightest bit empty. Jinyoung and Jaebum were speaking in a faint whisper while BamBam was on his phone. Mark looked down at his own phone, staring at his home screen.

Their silence felt enveloping and calm despite the noise around them. Despite the initial awkwardness, Mark felt calm even with his concern for Jackson that had continued to buzz at the back of his head.

A sound of an explosion startled him from his reverie. The fireworks had begun, the incandescent explosions burning the night sky. Colors filled his vision, the noises grating on his ear.

What remained following the fireworks was smoke that floated away from them. People began getting up to leave.

Jaebum, Jinyoung, and Bambam all decided to go to the restroom before they left, leaving Mark alone with Jackson.

The younger boy walked away, leaving Mark to trail behind him. The boy walked into where Mark presumed was his home, feeling slightly off after having barely even seen it. It was dark, a faint firework show from another park further away sounding in the background. He noticed pictures, happy faces shining despite the darkness of room around him.

 

Jackson was ahead of him, climbing onto the balcony. Mark panicked, noticing Jackson’s figure climbing onto the edge. It harkened back to his own attempted suicide. He ran across the room, pulling the sliding door open.

Just as the Hong Kong native was about to lean forward, Mark strained his voice to yell Jackson’s name, remembering momentarily that Jackson wouldn't be able to what him. He wrapped his thin arms over the bulkier boy’s torso, pulling the boy onto him.

He felt his back and head hit the wooden surface below him, a rush of pain surging through his body. He felt as if he'd concussed himself, feeling Jackson roll over, wrapping his arms around Mark.

Mark felt his vision blur, the back of his head feeling the slightest bit wet. His head felt heavy.

“Mark,” said boy’s voice was still clumsy, yet was endearing. It sounded muffled, like he were a trumpet with a mute.

His vision blurred even further, before his head fell onto Jackson’s strong shoulders.

 

\--

 

Jackson’s waist hurt, his barely adequate hearing recalling the Mark yell his name. His arms. Which were around Mark had released from the boy. The man slipped down, making Jackson suddenly aware of the sanguine fluid flowing down Mark’s long neck.

The Hong Kong native found that he couldn't find his phone, picking Mark up and running to the hospital. There were already a few other figures waiting in the room.

  
For what felt like hours, Jackson found that his friend was not in fact dead. He never would've had the clairvoyance to realize he would be waiting in the hospital, on Independence Day especially. Jackson felt inexplicably guilty, remembering he was the one to force Mark in the situation he was in. Jackson’s waist continued to burn, the feeling of Mark’s arms still reminding him of his guilt.

Jackson paced up and down the white hallway, his skin falling to the same wan shade the more anxious he got. Jackson walked out of the room, and out in the lobby. He shoved a single dollar into the machine, punching in the code for some bag of candy.

He munched away, not noticing the noise he created from biting into the brittle shells of the candy.

After figuring he wouldn't get any news on the boy anytime soon, Jackson walked out.

 

  
After finding his hearing aid again, Jackson returned a week later with his mom, who began profusely bowing at the woman. His mom, who he knew as strong and amazing was breaking down, crying as her head hung low. Jackson felt tears well in his own eyes, doing the same.

The lady shifted between her legs, awkward like her son. She shook her head, holding her hands out to the two in front of her with her legs bent slightly.

Jackson felt bad, still. He stood up straight, wiping at his eyes. His mother copied his own actions.

They concluded their short meeting on a surprisingly good note after apologizing.

 

Jackson waited by the front of the hospital, hesitating to go in every time. He stared at the exit, hoping that one day his friend would just walk out and greet him with another brilliant smile.

He had a strange urge to sob every time he remembered the gleam of the boy’s white teeth against his pink lips. The contrast stark under the gleaming sun which was almost always remedied by the shade provided by the foliage above the small bridge they frequented.

He returned there, avoiding anyone who happened to be on the path. He took his hearing aid out, staring at the nude-colored device. Jackson placed it back into his ears, staring down at the fish beneath him.

He climbed up the fence, jumping into the green-ish water. Jackson felt the cold water flow around his strong torso. It tickled his sides, splashing softly around him, like a droplet falling into an undisturbed puddle.

Jackson listened to the soft breeze, his ears twitching to the wind. He shuddered. Jackson let out a soft laugh, his eyes aching as he felt water run down his face. Jackson waded out, sitting at the side of the manmade river bank. He placed his hands into his face, tucking his knees to his chest.

He was cold. Tears continued to stream down his face, his cheeks hot despite his shivering.

 

His hearing aids were out again, the familiar near-silence enveloping him like a blanket. Blankly, he walked out of his home, returning to the hospital.

Jackson peered into Mark’s hospital room, inching his way into the doorframe. His body felt cold, looking at his friend’s weak frame. The off-white bandages were wrapped around Mark’s head, short strands of hair spilling from underneath the bandages.

The Hong Kong native looked away from Mark. His stomach flipped, a sense of vertigo rushing toward his head. His head hung in shame, watching the boy’s motionless body.

If not for the steady beeping of the heart monitor behind him, the line dynamic against the dull noise of the monitor, he would've thought that Mark was dead. Yet he knew his friend was strong, recalling the stories he heard about Mark after he had left Mark’s school. The boy was bullied, yet from what he heard, the kids felt justified or doing what they thought was so wrong when the same boy did it to him.

A nurse walked in, her high-heeled shoes making a noise loud enough for him to hear. Jackson decided he needed to leave, immediately. He gave his best attempt at telling her he was just about to leave and walked out the door.

  
And when night fell on him again, he returned to the bridge.

He was tired and sad, which seemed to be more of an understatement than anything. He felt it, as if Mark would just awaken and return to him. He waited and waited for his clairvoyant vision to come to fruition, but the prophecy had been false.

  
~~

  
_He ran to the bridge despite the ache in his head, deciding he needed to see the boy. The small bridge came into his vision, the view shaking like a poorly shot action movie. A frame in full black was running too, stopping once they'd gotten to the bridge._

_Jackson’s hair was brown. Even under the dark blanket of the night, it was a noticeable shift from his previously blond hair. Subtle changes were noticeable. Jackson’s large eyes had become slightly hooded, gaining a slight shadow underneath. His clothes covered his entire frame, allowing Mark to notice the man’s slight shrink in physique. His hearing aid was also out, the thin wore_

_Mark gave him a small smile. His breathing was shaky, whether it was because of him running or his anxiety. He dropped to the ground, Jackson following in his step shortly. Jackson stared intently at him, his gaze strong on Mark._

_“I-I know, I look like shit. S-sorry,” Mark rubbed his face, hiding his head in his arms as he tucked his legs into his chest. He knew Jackson couldn't hear him, but he didn't care._

_The shuffling of fabric next to him made Mark lift his head. Jackson was standing, his eyes darting around Mark, yet never landing on the man’s eyes._

_Mark looked to Jackson, the faint light of the moon filtering through the foliage above them. His eyes were large, awestruck. Jackson bowed, his head facing his feet before he yelled, “I like you!”_

_Jackson’s voice was raspy and uncertain, the words were jumbled together and uncareful. Yet Mark still felt the warm breath of wind that blew past them, his eyes overflowing with tears. A silence fell over them again, the crinkling of Mark’s hospital gown and his sniffles being the most prevalent noises._

_Mark turned his back from Jackson, his frame shaking as he wept. Jackson walked to the other side of the California native, lifting the man’s chin. A thin layer of uneven stubble pricked at his finger. Mark wiped his tears, standing up slowly._

_The American male looked frail, as if the next gust of wind would shatter him into nothing more than just a pile of dust. He leaned against the rickety railing, a creaking noise sounding softly. He blinked away the remaining tears and gave Jackson a small smile._

_“I love you more than the world.”_

_He disappeared, a few leaves drifting down to where he had just stood._

And in the morning, he was greeted with the familiar sight of sunlight filtering through the foliage above him. Yet he felt all the more upset than he'd ever been at the sight. Even with the gorgeous summer day, the thought of Mark never waking up was both devastating and heartbreaking.

Jackson sighed, shuffling back to his home where Jaebum, Jinyoung, and BamBam greeted him. They were apologetic for what happened, even if it wasn't any of their faults. They managed to brighten his day the slightest bit, but once they all had left, Jackson was left to wallow in his own self-pity.

He decided he'd wait for his friend to wake up, returning to the bridge everyday to bask in the sunlight through the trees above just before leaving moments after.

But one fateful day, just after his first semester in college concluded, he saw a familiar figure wrapped in a thin jacket and a scarf.

“Mark?” He managed to whisper, and just as a cold breeze swept past them, the boy looked up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think i physically have the capacity to actually make this a good story, but it's loosely based off of the movie a silent voice. but i can't do such a beautiful movie justice, i implore you to check it out for yourself. have a nice day.


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